


fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die

by bowlingfornerds



Series: long fics [5]
Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cars, F/M, Fluff, Memories, Roadtrip, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At eighteen years old, Clarke shoved her things into the old campervan. Before she and her friends start university and the rest of their lives, they go on a road trip. A road trip that will hopefully change their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've Been With You Such A Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't yet noticed, I love writing fics centralised around cars and journeys; it's just something I really enjoy writing. I don't know how many chapters this is going to be - probably no more than six or seven - and around 15k is my guess. I also tend to write stories with a singular band at the middle of it, and this time it's Queen (in previous stories I've had Wham! and Bon Jovi, if you're wondering).
> 
> So, the title of the story is from The Show Must Go On, and the chapter title from You're My Best Friend.

Out of her friends, Murphy was the first one Clarke met. Back then, he was going by John, and she sat next to him on her first day at Ark Infant School; a five year old with her curly blonde hair tied in two plaits. He looked at her and said that he liked her dress because it was green, and green was his favourite colour. She was wearing her school uniform, and every girl in the class had the same white and green checked dress, but he only said it to her.

The next day, in the cloak room, she noticed that they had the same backpack, with the same blue and white stripes, and she told him that blue was _her_ favourite colour, and they were best friends ever since.

-

At eighteen years old, Clarke shoved her things into the old campervan. Her mother bought it for her the year before, and her father helped her renovate its motor so it ran like a top. She painted the outside, her friends coming over every now and again to help out and add their own images to the sides of the van. It was baby blue, at its base, but the metal was filled with graffiti and spirals of colour that Clarke couldn’t help but love.

She moved out of the way as Murphy chucked his duffle bag into the boot with hers, running a hand through his hair.

“We _are_ gonna’ fit everyone in here, right?” He questioned, his brow furrowed as he stepped back.

“We’ve done it before,” she shrugged.

“Not for weeks at a time.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Clarke promised, waving a hand in his direction. “Now, we just need to pick up the others, and we can get started on this trip.” Murphy’s smile wasn’t as wide as hers – but it never was. It was smile and amused; happy enough but not wanting to let the brightness through. She loved his smile; she always had.

As Clarke drove to the Blake’s house, she thought back to the way he used to smile; all teeth and gums, his hair flopping into his eyes – not braided back like it often was now. She knew that he hadn’t smiled like that in a good few years, and Clarke never went to question it. As much as she loved Murphy, he was a ticking time bomb – and she never liked being around for the explosion.

At the Blake’s, Octavia and Bellamy dumped their things in the boot and climbed into the back seat, not bothering to question the size of the van, and how it would fit everyone in – it just would. Clarke kept driving as Octavia leaned forward over the middle of the front seats.

“What is this music?” She asked, wrinkling up her nose.

“Queen,” Murphy shrugged, sending a glance to the CD player.

“Ugh,” O groaned. “Don’t you have anything else?”

“We have Queen, and we have the radio,” Clarke replied slowly. Octavia Blake was known for criticising possibly the greatest band to have ever existed: Queen. No one knew why she didn’t like them, nor did anyone believe she had a legitimate reason – it was just a thing. Octavia Blake didn’t like listening to Queen. The rest of the world did.

“Can we have the radio?” She asked.

“No,” Clarke replied. “We’re listening to Queen.” She sent a glance into the rear view mirror, finding O slumping back into her seat, rolling her eyes. Next to her, her older brother Bellamy smiled, shaking his head.

“We’ve been in the car for less than a minute,” he told her. “You can’t start complaining about the music so quickly.”

“Can and did,” O mumbled back.

The next – and last – stop was at the Reyes’. Clarke pulled up outside a scummy apartment complex; its windows broken and curtains often flapping in the wind. The bricks were old and dark; the last paint job (probably back in the 60s) peeling and chipping onto the pavement. Even so, Raven Reyes and Wells Jaha grinned from where they stood on the curb. Wells put their things neatly in the boot as Raven climbed into the front seat; Murphy being pushed along the bench to sit in the middle. In the back, Wells climbed in next to Octavia.

“So,” Clarke announced, turning in the driver’s seat and looking at her friends. She glanced over their expressions; each one as excited as the next (apart from Murphy – because he didn’t show human emotion like everyone else; Clarke could still read him, anyway). “Road trip?”

“Road trip!” Raven cheered. In the back, Octavia hooted as Murphy turned up the volume of the music. Don’t Stop Me Now blared over the speakers, and the youngest Blake didn’t even seem to mind. The boys clapped and the entire car sang along, top of their voices, to Freddie Mercury’s lyrics. _I’m floating around in ecstasy so-_

“Don’t stop me now!” The entire car filled with their voices as Clarke pushed down on the accelerator. She drove through traffic, laughing as Bellamy and Wells attempted the high notes and Raven drummed on the dashboard. Next to her, Murphy relaxed into the seat and every now and again nudged her, so she could look over and see one of her friends trying to air guitar or dance in their seats.

The plan was to drive from Ark, where they lived, to TonDC. They gave themselves six weeks to do so – enough time to have a great trip, and also be back home to pack up their stuff and head out to university in Phoenix; where they’d all be ending up (even Octavia, who was a few years younger than everyone else, and Bellamy, who was a few years older). They would be switching drivers throughout the trip, and Clarke volunteered the first go; taking them a hundred miles or so from Ark, and along the motorways joining them to other towns.

At lunch, she stopped long enough for them to buy fish and chips; Octavia jumping into Murphy’s seat in the front and feeding them to Clarke as she wove through traffic.

They stopped, officially, that night.

She pulled into a truck stop, feeling grateful that so many of them littered the motorways, before pushing open the door to the campervan and stretching. Clarke could hear the groans of her friends; happy to be out of the van, and less cooped up. The relief wasn’t long-lasting, though, and within minutes they were untying the bungee cords on the roof and pulling down the supplies for the night.

Clarke found herself going into the rest stop with Murphy, to buy dinner.

“Did you visit your dad?” She asked, stepping into the queue. Next to her, her best friend shrugged. Clarke rolled her eyes. “You did or you didn’t, Murph.”

“I did,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The asshole just got grouchy that I wouldn’t be around to visit him as much.” She raised her eyebrows as he sighed. “It’s like I spend the past eight years of my life visiting the guy and now that I’m leaving he’s not even happy for me – just pissed that no one’s going to be seeing him anymore.”

“What about your uncle?” Murphy shook his head.

“They barely even liked each other when he was out,” he replied. The two of them edged forward in the queue, and Clarke noticed that there was a strangely long line for seven at night. “I think my cousin visits him every few months,” Murphy added in a lighter tone.

“Well at least he’ll have someone.” Her friend just nodded. “Hey,” she continued, linking her arm through his. “He’ll be fine. He’s only got a couple more years, right?” Murphy nodded. “Well you can’t just stick around, waiting – he’ll get out and you’ll get a degree.” They moved forward in the queue again.

“He’s going to hate me for leaving.” Clarke looked over to Murphy; really _looked_ at him. He had never been the prettiest; not in the entire time she’d known him. He had a large nose and sunken eyes that glared even when he was happy; his mouth could stretch into a thin line when he wasn’t impressed and his skin was naturally pale. Murphy was lanky but not the tallest – and while she knew he was stronger than he looked; he also didn’t look like the kind of person you’d ask to help you reach something from the top shelf in a supermarket, or to help an old lady across the road.

But he was her best friend, and she knew that his eyes gleamed when he was happy; even if he was staring daggers. His laugh was infectious and he played the drums because he liked the way they commanded attention and blocked out other noises. She knew that he got a tattoo when he was fifteen from his uncle’s shop, and that the J.M. that’s inked onto the underside of his arm hurt like a bitch and she held his hand the entire way through it.

“He could never hate you,” she told him honestly. “He loves you – he’s in there because he loves you.”

“Some love,” he scoffed. Clarke smiled sadly – he was her best friend.

-

During the night, Raven slept across the back seat of the van – Jake Griffin had ripped out the interior and replaced it with seats, and then a small area at the back – because of her dodgy leg, and Octavia in the front seat, because she’s the youngest. Clarke and Murphy were huddled; curled around each other in the back; with the bags piled up on one side there was enough space for the two of them across the floor, as Bellamy and Wells slept outside; in sleeping bags. They would all take that shift eventually, and Clarke was pleased that on this first night she could be inside, Murphy’s hand clutching hers like he did when they had sleepovers as children; his face finally relaxed in sleep.

She stared at the ceiling for a little while; the colours of the three bold stripes muted in the dark. Alex Murphy, her best friend’s father, had been arrested when Murphy was ten. He was still going by John when he’d fallen sick. It was awful; for almost a solid month he was sat at home, barely able to move or breathe. For the first week, he was in hospital, before his parents couldn’t afford his care any longer.

Clarke visited him every day, watching him deteriorate as something attacked his lungs and he heaved even when slept. She sat by him after every school day until her parents called, asking for her to come home. Her heart broke in two every time she walked back into the living room, finding him curled up on the sofa bed – for lack of having his own room. He would be sweating or crying, or vomiting and she would just sit next to him, carding her fingers through his hair until he managed to fall asleep again.

Abby Griffin, Clarke’s mother and doctor-extraordinaire, had been working on getting Murphy – or, John – the medicine, free of charge, when Alex Murphy was arrested. He had tried to steal it; going to extreme lengths and taking the gun from the locked cabinet to do so. He never got the medicine back to his son, but he did manage to shoot a bullet through the cashier’s arm, ripping the flesh and tendons.

Even now, Clarke could still remember the sound of her best friend’s tears as his mother told him that his father was going to prison. She remembered the sound of her best friend’s mother smashing around the kitchen that evening; the bottles breaking and her shouts and screams as she stepped on broken glass. And then the way, the next day, Clarke went to get John a glass of water and found needles in the sink, instead.

Next to her, Murphy stirred in his sleep, and shifted, bringing his hand that was clutching hers to her lips. She loved him, truly – her best damn friend in the world. He settled back into sleep; his eyelids firmly shut and his muscles relaxed, and she smiled to herself, shutting her own eyes.

Sadly, all she could see was the way she forced John from his sofa bed, ignoring his groaning as she made him walk alongside her; out of his home and down the apartment complex’s staircase. She didn’t care that it was dark enough for the street lights to be on, or that they’d both missed dinner (like he was eating, anyway) – she kept tugging him along; one arm around her shoulders, and one of hers around his waist.

They stopped so he could throw up in a bush half way home.

On the back of Clarke’s eyelids, she could see her father’s expression as she pulled John into her house and helped him onto the sofa, covering him with a blanket and fighting off her own tears as she went to get him a drink.

“What the hell, Clarke?” Her father hissed, eyes wide, as she poured water into a glass.

“Mrs. Murphy’s drunk and I found used needles in the sink, Dad,” she whispered back, feeling the first of the tears spill down her cheeks. “I couldn’t let him stay there – I just couldn’t.” Her father had enveloped her into a hug, before she went back to tend to her best friend.

-

In the morning, Clarke woke up alone. Murphy had always been an early riser and she wasn’t surprised by his absence, now. She pushed herself out of the van, stretching when her feet hit the concrete. Almost immediately she smiled at the smell, following it around to the side of the camper.

There, Bellamy sat on the ground, their travel barbeque lit in front of him as he turned over the pieces of bacon.

“Morning,” he greeted warmly, smiling as he glanced up at her.

“Morning,” she replied. Clarke sat herself next to him on the floor, scooting closer when she remembered that Bellamy Blake was a furnace in his own right all year round – and it was perfect for a cold morning such as this. “Where is everyone?”

“The other girls are asleep,” he replied, pressing the tongs onto the meat and listening to the sizzle. “Wells and Murphy are in the bathroom.” She nodded as he nodded over to the pack of buns, sitting beside the barbeque. He passed her a knife, also, and Clarke started going about cutting them all in half.

“Have a nice sleep?” She asked, drawing the knife through the roll.

“It was ok – my back kills from being out here, and don’t think I wasn’t paranoid about the killers.” Clarke let out a bark of laughter.

“There are no killers out here,” she replied, smiling. He shrugged.

“There could have been – and Jaha and I would have been prime targets.” They grinned at each other as Clarke held open a roll for him to place the bacon into. They did the same once more and the two of them sat silently, eating their breakfast side by side.

Clarke only glanced at him out of the corner of her eye a few times; she’d had a strange crush on Bellamy for years now – probably since she met him – but it had faded in a way that they did when people knew it wasn’t going to happen. They were friends, and sometimes they’d flirt or their touches would linger too long, but it wasn’t going to happen. Yet, at least – Clarke could never be sure about the future.

Wells and Murphy returned and the four of them sat on the sleeping bags, still laid out on the concrete, eating together. Wells recounted the story of what had just happened in the men’s bathrooms – apparently someone had made it their home, and Clarke laughed along until the girls trudged out of the camper, not being able to wait for their food any longer.

-

That afternoon, as Murphy drove and Clarke sat in the middle of the front seat, her head rested on his shoulder and his eyes glued to the road, she smiled.

“You’re my favourite person in the world,” she whispered to him. “You know that?” Clarke glanced up at him without moving her head – just enough to see the change in his features and the way his lips were pulled upwards at the sides.

“So sentimental, Griffin,” he replied, equally as quiet. It didn’t matter that the other four were having their own conversations throughout the rest of the van and weren’t even listening in on them, but Clarke liked the way their conversation was low and private. She waited though, anyway, until he spoke again. “I like you too,” he added and Clarke grinned.

“I’m going to miss not living with you next year,” she admitted.

“I’m not. I can be as untidy as I want and no one will be there to make me clean it up.” The two of them smiled, even though they both knew it was a lie. The day after John had come home with Clarke, he’d been admitted back into hospital at Abby’s request. They were going to file for a law suit – for _something_ to get him out of his home, but they hadn’t needed to.

Lucy Murphy had died in a puddle of her own vomit less than a week after John started getting treated again. Then it was only a matter of filing for custody.

John Murphy and Clarke Griffin were practically siblings, and she didn’t want to be separated from him. Even so, she smiled into his shoulder, watching as he flipped on the indicator and turned a corner. It had been his idea to go on a road trip – one of the better ones he’d ever had – and she’d jumped at the chance to spend her final months before university on the open road with her best friends and her brother.


	2. One Sweet Moment Set Aside For Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest - platonic Clarphy is my jam.  
> Here's some Wells, though.  
> Chapter title from Who Wants To Live Forever.  
> I also wrote Wells based a little on my friend, and Clarke is me when she's complaining about his lack of emotions. Feels good to finally write that into a fanfic.

Clarke met Wells Jaha when she was seven. She was at a charity auction with her parents; a big fancy event for the hospital her mother worked at, when she _finally_ saw another person her age. She had disappeared from her father’s side and into the crowd, following this stranger around, until she had the opportunity to say hello.

He had smiled back and she spent the next ten minutes convincing him to leave his father’s side and go on an adventure with her, in the hall. It was over an hour later when they’d been found; practically the entire building searching for them, instead of schmoozing people to get donations for the hospital. Clarke hadn’t minded though, because she’d met Wells and they were friends – even if she was grounded with no television privileges for a week.

-

It was day eight of the road trip, and they had made it to Polis. Over the past week they’d stopped numerous times for the stupidest things; to take a photo with a stranger; to climb an exceptionally tall tree; to take photos of sign posts and spray paint the golden ‘6’ that Octavia had decided to make a stencil of across the back of a building or on the pavement. In short, they’d loved every minute of it.

Now, Bellamy was driving and Octavia sat in the front seat, happily listening to the radio and the Top 40. Raven sat with them in the front, in an avid debate with Bellamy over cars, while the other three stretched out in the back. Murphy took the back seat for himself; lying across it asleep – he hadn’t slept much the night before, having been sleeping outside with Raven – and Clarke and Wells sat with their backs against the back seat, facing the back door. There weren’t any seatbelts, and they were likely to be crushed by falling luggage if Bellamy slammed on the brakes, but it was nice and cosy, and felt like an entirely different world to the rest of the van.

“Are you and Raven…” Clarke trailed off her whispered question, nodding as the end of the sentence. Wells rolled his eyes.

“No, Clarke,” he sighed.

“You sound a little sad about that,” she replied, deciding that whispering wasn’t for her. He shrugged.

“I guess so – but I’ll be fine.”

“You always say that.”

“And I’m always fine.” Clarke sighed in an over-exaggerated manner, making a big deal of rolling her eyes.

“Wells – you finally want something in your life, go and get it.”

“What?” He asked, his brow furrowed. “When have I _not_ wanted something?”

“You’re constantly _content_ ,” she explained, fumbling over her words. “Just satisfied – like nothing phases you. And now you want something – someone – so you should go and get her, so you’ll be more than just content.”

“I’m not just _content_ ,” he replied indignantly – but his voice trailing off at the end. “I have goals.”

“Like what?”

“Like law school, politics, that big house in Ark-“

“Which one?”

“The one on the end of St. Augustine street; with the balcony and bay windows?”

“Oh, and the big garden?” She asked, nodding.

“Yeah – it backs onto the woods- anyway! I want that, as well.”

“You want that house.”

“Someday.”

“You know someone might be living in it?” He shrugged.

“I’ll be rich by then,” he replied. “I’ll buy them out of it. But the point is – I have goals.”

“Your goals are education and a big house, to live in all by yourself.”

“I didn’t say by myself,” Wells grumbled, looking away. Clarke sighed.

“Then who with? Raven?” She whispered that last part and he rolled his lower lip in thought.

“I don’t know, maybe? I need to ask her out first.”

“You’re literally stuck with her in a van for a month,” Clarke told him, dryly. “I’m sure you have the time.”

“I think having the balls is the bigger problem.”

-

When they climbed back into the van, after lunch, Clarke purposely sat in the front seat, where Raven was previously sitting. She glanced back at Murphy, curling back up on the back seat like he had before, and grinned to herself.

When Raven saw, she just shrugged and limped down to the back, using her single crutch for help.

When Wells noticed, he glared and gave her the middle finger.

In the front of the van, Octavia spoke about Phoenix.

“We went there the other day, to look at the flat that Bell wants to rent,” she explained, nodding to herself as she spoke, as if she was affirming her words. “And it has these really big windows with lots of light, and a really nice kitchen – it’s a little way out of the way, and it might take a little while to get to school, but _Clarke_ it’s _so_ pretty.” Clarke smiled at the younger girl – Octavia Blake was fifteen; the youngest of the group, and her older brother was twenty one, as the oldest.

“So you’re looking forward to moving then?” She asked, resting her elbow on the door. O wrinkled up her nose at the question.

“Not _excited_ or anything,” she replied, and Clarke glanced up at Bellamy, in the driver’s seat, frowning. “But I think it’s really nice there, so I don’t think I’ll mind it at all.”

“And you’ll be going to Phoenix High?” O nodded.

“Yeah – we looked around there, too, didn’t we, Bell?” Bellamy nodded without looking away from the road. “It’s bigger than Ark Academy – but the rooms are much nicer, and did you know there is mould in the Ark science labs?” Clarke nodded mildly.

“I went there, too,” she replied. “I think it started with a really bad frog dissection.”

“Ew,” O replied, shaking her head. “Well, Phoenix is really state-of-the-art, with really high ceilings and _clean labs_ – and the teachers I spoke to were really nice, weren’t they, Bell?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding. “Principle Kane sounded genuinely interested in getting her as a student for her final year there.” Octavia nodded in agreement.

“He was a little cold – but he got along with Bell; they’re both massive history nerds.” Bellamy put on a mock-offended look.

“Not _massive_ ,” he corrected.

“You’re going to university for a _history_ _degree_ , Bell – that’s massive enough.” The two siblings smiled at each other, rolling their eyes behind each other’s backs as Clarke stifled her laugh. She glanced back in the van, first at Murphy, awake and tapping away at his phone. She caught his eye and the two of them smiled at each other, before she glanced at the back, where she could see Raven’s crutch propped up against the bags. Clarke couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she hoped it had something to do with Wells confessing his feelings to her.

In her pocket, Clarke’s phone vibrated. She pulled it out, finding Murphy’s name pop up on the screen. Before reading, she glanced at him, looking smugly back at her.

**_Murphy: 1:43pm_ **

_He’s telling her about that place in town with the really good lasagne._

Her phone vibrated again.

**_Murphy: 1:44pm_ **

_She’s saying she knows about it. He replied that they should go and get some before they leave._

Clarke raised her eyebrows at her best friend and he nodded seriously. She smiled, to him and to herself, before turning around in her seat again, facing the front.

-

Only two days later was Clarke sitting with Wells again. They were about to leave Polis, but were in a café before going. At their booth, Clarke was wedged between the wall and Wells, having a foot-fight with Octavia every couple of minutes and pretending to listen to Bellamy explain how Dionysus became a god in great detail. Really though, she was trying to figure out how to talk to Wells.

That morning, she’d received a check-up text from her mother, and replied with an all clear. Even so, it made her think back to when Thelonious Jaha, Wells’ father, used to have dinner with their family, and someone would burn the dinner, and while Uncle Theo opened the window and waved a tea towel at the smoke detector, he would call out ‘all clear!’ to let the kids know that they could come back into the kitchen.

It was strange to think about, she noticed, because their parents were always so strict and focused; her father a world-class engineer and her mother a brain surgeon. His father was Chief of Medicine are Ark General Hospital, where her mother worked, and they were all so job-centred, that it was odd to see them joking around, burning dinner, drinking too much wine.

Clarke knew that Wells’ mother had died giving birth to him, and his father had kept himself together only for the infant child he was raising. Even so, Wells never acted as if he needed any more than he had – he never seemed to want any more, or even ask for it. He was given all of the basics to his life, and after that, he seemed to just expect that what the universe wanted to give him, it would. It was a nice way of thinking, she supposed, but Clarke wanted things.

She felt fiercely and passionately. She wanted Murphy to live with her when he needed a home, she needed peace and quiet or a new canvas to express herself onto. She loved and she hated, and she sent brutal glares in the direction of some and kissed others with a burning heat. She always wondered if Wells felt like that; because he never seemed to.

But, at the table, she watched the way he smiled at Raven, opposite him. She studied him as he locked eyes with the Latina girl, and she tried to think back to a time when she’d seen him this way. Sadly, Clarke came up empty-handed.

Later, as they were wandering out to the van, she expressed this.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Clarke asked. Wells scoffed.

“How on earth did you come to that conclusion?” He replied sarcastically.

“I’m serious.” Clarke bumped her hip with his. “You’re giving her heart-eyes.”

“Heart eyes?” Clarke nodded.

“Yeah, that type of staring at someone like you’re trying to express all of your love just with the looks.” Wells nodded slowly.

“So the way you look at Bellamy?” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“I do not,” she muttered.

“Maybe not as much, recently – but for the past few years.” She shrugged, stuffing her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. “I like her, okay?” He said eventually. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“ _Clarke_.”

“I’m serious! I’m glad you’re finally getting some emotions.” Wells just laughed, and Clarke was glad that they could talk about these things. The first time she’d tried to he’d just shrugged her off. But, in the eleven years they’d known each other, she’d worn him down. They had a constant, running joke that Wells was incapable of feeling any emotions other than satisfied and content, and he was happy enough to play along.

Clarke was glad that he didn’t have to, anymore – that he was finding someone to make him feel more than just fine.

-

They’d been on the road for two weeks, and Clarke was driving through a maze of country lanes. Either side of her stretched a forest, and above, a canopy of trees. The leaves filtered sunlight onto the tarmac of the road; dappling pale patches of grey in front of her eyes. Next to her was Bellamy, poring over the map in his hands. She was pleased that they’d given themselves such a long amount of time to get to TonDC and back; that they could afford to get lost on back roads and country farms. Sighing, Bellamy frowned.

“I have no idea where we are,” he admitted, looking up and squinting his eyes to find any sign posts. Clarke smiled softly, slowly as a car passed her in the other direction.

“Well, other people are on the road,” she shrugged. “We can’t be too far out.” Bellamy let the atlas guide rest on his lap as he tipped his head backwards.

“The other day I saw Charlotte,” he admitted. Clarke raised her eyebrows and glanced over to him in surprise. “She looked better – how long has it been?”

“A year?” She suggested, shaking her head. “God – I nearly forgot about her.”

“That’s a lie,” Bellamy replied lowly. Clarke nodded.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

Charlotte was only eleven when Clarke met her. She’d seen the younger girl around Ark before; her long mousy brown hair plaited, and her face looking like it needed a good clean. Charlotte lived in the town’s biggest orphanage, and was always finding ways out of the building and disappearing from the group. She had been abandoned as a child and grew up sharing her room with five other girls, all disappearing months after they first came.

In the days before Clarke had first come face-to-face with her, the girl had cut off her hair, up to her shoulders, and sold it off. It was uneven and jagged, but it made her no less intimidating when she passed Wells and Clarke in a side road, stabbing him in the side with her knife and grabbing his wallet from his trousers.

Clarke remembered the shock on his face, as he dropped to his knees. His cream coloured t-shirt pooled with blood and Clarke knelt by his side, calling an ambulance and wanting to run after the young girl. But she knew her face and identity, and Clarke refused to leave Wells in the street.

The hospital was brightly lit, white, sterile, and Clarke smelt like disinfectant for a week after being there; sitting by his bedside day in, day out, Murphy coming on alternate days, or packing a lunch for her to give to him when he couldn’t make it – “I know how shit the food is,” he’d explained the first time.

Charlotte hadn’t been arrested, but she’d given the wallet back. Clarke had only frowned when she looked inside, finding the money gone and his cards missing. Neither of them brought it up, though; just cancelled his card and sighed when Wells admitted that he’d saved up two thousand points on his Subway card.

Next to her, Bellamy rested a hand on her knee; reassuring and firm. Where he touched, her leg tingled; warming to him. It was like this a lot, she noted, but Clarke refused to dwell; just smiled and kept driving, hoping she’d find the main road eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading! Make sure you click the kudos button and tell me in the comments what you thought? Thanks!


	3. It Never Rains But It Pours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Under Pressure.

Clarke was fourteen when she met Raven Reyes. Or really, when Raven Reyes _hit_ her. She had been at school when the new student – a beautiful Latina with gorgeous eyes – approached her in the hallway and slapped her. People stared and gawked and Clarke felt like doing the same thing. She had practically screeched _what the hell was that for_ when Raven accused her of kissing her boyfriend.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Clarke asked weakly, still rubbing the red spot on her cheek.

“Finn Collins,” Raven had grounded out. And then it all made sense to Clarke; that the guy she liked, who had taken her on a date to the fair, and kissed her up against the hot dog truck had a girlfriend – that she had never heard of.

-

Murphy was acting fidgety, next to her in the van. He was sitting between Clarke and the door, with his fingers constantly moving around each other; rubbing his hands together, clicking, scratching at his skin. Clarke knew he got like this when he felt cooped up; when he wanted to stretch his legs and run and move – burn off the energy. She also knew that he was likely to keep doing this for the next few days, before he let it all out.

Unfortunately, Clarke knew that he usually let it out in the form of anger.

They had been driving for three and a half weeks, and they were in TonDC. The day before had been spent shopping and sightseeing, and today they were going to climb the Mountain; Mount Weather. It was a goal on Clarke’s bucket list, and she was excited to finally be doing it.

Next to her, was Raven.

“You’re going to be okay, right?” Clarke asked nervously, pointedly not looking down at her friend’s dodgy knee. Raven sighed for what must have been the hundredth time, nodding.

“Of course, Clarke,” she drawled. “They have three points up the hill, where you can sit down and get on the lift to the top – I just want to make it to point one.” Clarke nodded, even though she knew all of this already; she really didn’t want Raven’s leg to get worse because of this. “Stop worrying,” Raven added, taking Clarke’s hand in hers and pulling it into the other girl’s lap. Raven drew soothing circles with her thumb around the back of Clarke’s hand, and the blonde relaxed into her seat. She kept her eyes pointedly away from Murphy’s hands as she took one of them in her spare, and rested her head on Raven’s shoulder.

Under her palms, she still felt Murphy squirming, but now his lips were a pressed, straight line, and the ticking only happened every now and again.

-

Mount Weather was only a couple of miles high, but it looked taller, from where they stood in the car park at the bottom. The incline was steep, but the trails were all clearly marked, and Clarke smiled as she looked up. Next to her, Octavia pulled out her phone and took a picture.

“We’re really going up that, huh?” She asked, glancing over to Clarke. The blonde nodded before reaching back into the van for her backpack.

“Yup – and were going to make it to the top.”

“It’s not very impressive,” Wells pointed out, looking at a sign post by the entrance. It had some fun facts about the hill, and he frowned.

“I know – apparently it’s not very difficult, but not particularly easy,” she replied with a shrug. “So we’ll be fine.” Clarke adjusted her shoe lace, pleased that she remembered to pack clothing for the hike. Around her, her friends were dressed in similar clothing and Murphy fiddled with the zip of his jacket.

“You all right?” Clarke asked quietly, bumping her hip with his. Murphy nodded. “You sure?” He sighed but nodded again.

“I got a phone call from Dad, is all,” he muttered.

“When was that?” Clarke’s smile had vanished from her face as she stared at the boy in front of her.

“Last night, while you were unpacking the awning?” Clarke remembered unpacking the ugly awning that attached to the van in a camp site; it was where most of them slept the night before. It was still standing in the grass, now, zipped up on all sides and waiting for them to return the van to it’s opening. She also remembered Murphy heading off to the bathroom and not returning until all the hard work was done.

“What did he say?”

Murphy kicked a loose stone with the toe of his trainers. “Asking how the trip’s going, mainly,” he replied with a shrug. “Told me that Annie visited him the other day.” Annie was Murphy’s cousin. “Apparently her family’s moving from Ark, as well.”

“So…”

“So Dad’s going to have no visitors after I leave to Phoenix.” Clarke swallowed, brushing some blonde hair behind her ear and watching as her best friend frowned.

“That’s really shitty,” she replied.

“I know,” he agreed.

-

The trail was steep in some places and flat in others. At first, Clarke lead the group; Raven and Murphy trailing behind, Wells reading out the notice boards and acting if the information about indigenous plants was all that interesting. Occasionally, Bellamy would speed up and walk by her side; offer to take her backpack for her, as he wasn’t carrying one of his own, and shrug when she said it was okay, but no. Octavia complained about the walking and the height until Raven told her to shut up, and after that she had races with Wells, to see who could reach the next checkpoint first.

Sometimes the trail could only fit a single person at a time, and the trees would tilt over their heads; protecting them from the bearing heat of the sun. Clarke felt herself sweat and her toes curled inside her shoes because of it. At one point, the trail had a ditch of mud in a line down the middle, and they walked, one by one, stepping either side of the ravine to make it up to the next corner. There were benches every now and again, which they took full use of, Raven sitting and rubbing her knee until it felt better.

After a while, they made it to the first point.

“There’s the lift,” O announced, pointing towards a bench and a wire beside it, which would have a box dangling from it. Raven flopped onto the bench, frowning.

“Are you going to take it?” Wells asked and Raven shrugged.

“Probably, my leg’s killing me.”

“I can go with you,” he suggested. She just shook her head.

“Nah, you were really excited for this – actually, all of you were. If you guys want to keep going, I’ll meet you at the top.” The others looked around, unsure, and Clarke noted Wells’ reluctant expression to leaving her.

“I don’t want to walk anymore,” O finally piped up. “I didn’t really want to climb the mountain in the first place.”

“I thought you were all for this type of stuff,” Bellamy smirked, running a hand through his hair. “What about all those classes I signed you up for?”

“They’re kick boxing classes,” O replied, as if it was obvious. “Not hiking. I wasn’t made for hiking.” Raven nodded and O took the seat next to her on the bench.

“We’ll keep each other company, then,” she agreed. “You guys go on ahead – we’ll see who makes it up there first.”

-

Clarke felt like she had some sort of duty to talk to Wells for Raven. They weren’t dating, but they were viciously flirting all day, every day. And yet, nothing was coming of it.

Ahead of her, Murphy and Bellamy walked side by side; the only things they were carrying between them was the camera and a water bottle. She and Wells hiked together; the two of them carrying the only backpacks in the entire group. He passed the water bottle over and she drank heavily from it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when she passed it back.

“So, you and Raven?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. Wells sighed in an exasperated way.

“Stop prying, Clarke,” he warned. She held her hands up in defence.

“I just wanted to check – she’s wary about guys and you know it.”

“I’m nothing to be wary of,” he replied.

“ _I_ know that-“

“ _She_ knows that,” he insisted.

“But you remember Finn, right?”

“I remember Finn – actually, I saw him right before we went on this trip.” Clarke nodded.

“We all did,” she replied. “He was at the party.” Wells nodded in agreement. “Well he screwed her over and you know it.”

“I’m not going to screw her over,” he promised.

“I just wanted to make sure.” Wells sighed, looking down at her. He had always been taller than her from the first day they met. His black hair was short and his dark skin glistened with sweat. She pursed her lips in thought. “Don’t be like Wick, though, okay?” Now, Wells lowered his eyes.

“I won’t,” he replied.

“I need more of an assurance than that.”

“Clarke-“

“Wells, what Finn did was plain wrong – but Wick-“ Clarke stepped over a fallen branch, following the other boys up the hill. “That was really shitty. And he hadn’t even meant it – he screwed her over, too.”

“I’m not going to do that-“

“Which part?” Wells sighed.

“Well, for starters, I’m never going to hit her with my car.”

“I’m sure that’s what Wick thought, too.”

“And I don’t want to hurt her, Clarke – I want to _be_ with her; do all that stuff that people do in relationships and watch her build robots, and throw popcorn at the television. What Wick did was stupid; he drove drunk and he fucked her over for life. But I’m not going to be like that, and I’m not going to stick around only when it hurts her. _Clarke_.”

She sighed, looping her thumbs around the straps of her backpack.

“I believe you,” she replied. “I just really don’t want her to get hurt again – she’s gone through too much.”

“I agree,” Wells nodded. His voice was quiet and she barely heard him, but when she was sure of what he’d said, she knew that he was telling the truth.

-

Raven had hurt her leg when Wick was coming to pick her up from a bonfire party only a year or so beforehand. She had been waiting by the side of the road; looking intimidating even if she was in tiny scraps of clothing. Clarke hadn’t been there, but she had been in the hospital, working as the receptionist in A&E when Wick carried her in, sobering up by the second and staring at her with wide eyes.

He’d been drinking before he came to pick her up, and with his lack of perception through his drunken haze, had ran her down. He was lucky he wasn’t going very fast, trying to find her amongst the other civilians in the night, or he could have caused a lot more damage.

Raven had been crying when she arrived, screaming in pain when she was set down on the chair and Clarke ran to find her a wheelchair. She asked what happened as Wick filled out as much of the form as possible, and Raven just spluttered words she couldn’t understand through her tears. Wick had his jaw locked the entire time, writing as quickly as he could so she could get processed faster.

Clarke had put her file further up on the list – luckily it had been a slow night, and even if she _was_ caught; she was only a volunteer and she didn’t want to be in medicine for the rest of her life, it wouldn’t affect her that much.

She had stayed long after her shift had ended, helping Raven through her x-rays and the cast that was wrapped around her leg. She had other scrapes and bruises, but her knee wasn’t set right, and her lower leg was pointing the wrong way, and Raven ran out of tears, resorting to dry-heaving, even after the dose of pain killers.

Wick had admitted that it was his fault; that he’d hit her with his car, and even though she said it was okay, that she was alive; Clarke watched as Raven had problems talking to him after. She watched as they stopped communicating properly and Raven couldn’t trust him. He kept coming back though, and Clarke felt angrier than Raven did; her friend was just resigned to her life being like this.

Clarke screamed; she remembered that vividly; when she cornered Wick and screamed until he made his way past the silent treatment and the apologies and just started yelling back. They shouted at each other until they were found, and she stopped complaining when Raven was with him, and when she was trying to convince herself to stay with him.

Eventually, though, Clarke watched as Raven cried into her pillow the night she had the cast taken off, and still couldn’t walk on her leg, and she sat in her scummy apartment, with her mother yelling for her to be quiet from the next room over, until Raven finally fell asleep.

-

Further up the hill, Bellamy and Clarke fell into step. Like everyone else, Bellamy’s golden skin glistened with sweat and she reminded herself that they needed to collect all of their twenty pences together, so they could use the showers at the camp site when they returned. He smiled down at her, and she felt him place his hand on the small of her back, right below the backpack, as he directed her in front of him. The path was becoming smaller, and Clarke nodded as she took up the lead.

“How much of your stuff is packed?” She asked him as she walked. She couldn’t see his expression; just watched her feet and made sure she stepped in the right places.

“None of it,” he sighed. “I know I should start-“

“You probably should’ve started a long time ago.” Bellamy chuckled behind her.

“I know – but I’ve been busy. I work at night, sleep during the day, and then O’s home from school, and she’s terrible at cooking for herself.” Clarke smiles, stepping up onto a wooden-marked step.

“She can cook spaghetti,” Clarke pointed out.

“No, she can boil water. Checking how long the spaghetti needs to be cooked for and actually doing that is entirely different.” Clarke laughed, glancing around to look at his smiling face. She loved his smile – it was different to the way she loved Murphy’s. Her best friend’s were rare and nervous, but Bellamy’s were bold and wide, and each smile looked as if he was doing it just for that single person he was looking at.

She turned back to the front and kept climbing.

“Do you want me to come over, when we get back, to help you pack?” She asked, finding the next twenty metres of hill to be like steps. She climbed, pretending she wasn’t already worn out. The sigh that Bellamy gave was full of relief.

“That would be great,” he admitted. “I don’t have the motivation to start.”

“You do realise that we’re going to get back to Ark, and then be in Phoenix a week later, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied lightly. “It’s just not scaring me, yet.”

“Yet,” Clarke agreed.

-

At the top of the hill, she rested her hands on her hips, taking long breaths. Murphy handed her his water bottle and she gulped the end of the water down.

“Hey,” he said, frowning at the empty bottle. She shook her head.

“There’s more in my bag,” Clarke promised, jerking a thumb to her back. The two of them walked towards the clearing, at the top, where the lift’s line finished. Sitting at a picnic table were Raven and Octavia.

“Hey!” O cried, when she saw them. “You made it!”

“Yep,” Clarke agreed. “No one died on the way up.”

“Wells got stung by a bee,” Murphy added. Raven raised her eyebrows and Clarke smiled. They sat down at the table and she slipped off her backpack, happy for the weight to leave her shoulders. Murphy rummaged through it, finding another water bottle, and the two waited as Bellamy and Wells walked leisurely into the clearing.

“Morning,” Bellamy greeted with a nod, drenched in sweat but not looking worn out at all.

“It’s like four in the afternoon,” Octavia replied dryly.

“Afternoon,” Bellamy amended. Wells joined them at the table and Raven asked about the bee sting. In true Wells fashioned, he relayed the story in a matter-of-fact way, not exaggerating on a single detail. It was a fairly mundane story, but Raven looked interested from beginning to end. Octavia tapped her phone on the table and Murphy fidgeted with his hands and the water bottle he’d pulled from Clarke’s bag. Opposite her, Bellamy listened to Wells and smiled, and Clarke let out a breath of relief – this was why she came; to be with her friends.

She was still worried for Raven – but far less so, knowing that Wells had her best interests at heart. And she was still denying her attraction to Bellamy, but it didn’t matter when the air felt crisper than she’d ever breathed before. Her only worry was Murphy, and she reached out, holding his hand and squeezing it gently. She ran her thumb around the back of his hand, feeling the tension underneath the surface.

They stayed up there for a while, drinking in the sights and taking photos. They tried to capture every moment of being above the town below; giants overlooking a kingdom. Clarke pulled the hair band from her ponytail and let the wind ruffle her hair. Bellamy poured the remainder of his water on his head, shaking it out of his hair like a dog. He grinned when he saw her watching and she smiled. Only seconds later, Bellamy pulled off his t-shirt and stuffed it into her back pack on the picnic table, and Clarke turned before he could see her eyes linger on his bare torso.

Minutes later, she looked over to Murphy, standing by the fence at the edge, and staring out at the view. Clarke joined him, placing her hands on the fence next to his.

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly, but she knew what the answer was going to be.

Murphy was a ticking time bomb.

“No, I’m not fucking okay,” he spat – but she knew he wasn’t angry at her. He glared at the town below, and she wondered what thoughts were spinning around his head; how she could take them and throw them away so he could have a clear mind again. Clarke didn’t reply, just let him stew until he wanted to speak again. When he did, he lowered his head. “I can’t go to Phoenix.”

“ _What_?” Clarke had meant to stay quiet – let him figure this out for himself, but she couldn’t hold it back.

“I’m staying in Ark,” he repeated.

“Why?”

“Because it’s where I have to be, Clarke.” He turned to her now, releasing the fence and standing up straight. His eyes were dark, and she could see the anger riddled in the irises.

“No, you have to be with your family – with us, Murph-“

“My _family_ is my dad,” he retorted. “And he’s in prison – I have to stay in Ark.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!” He was practically shouting now and Clarke could hear her own voice rising, too. She was suddenly glad for the wind that whipped her hair about; it was carrying their voices away from their friends.

“No! You should be with us! With the people who love you!”

“What, he doesn’t?” He shouted back. Clarke groaned, slapping a hand to her face.

“Of course he does!” She replied. “But he’s stuck in jail – you’re free. Go be free and do things that free people do!”

“Like go to Phoenix?!”

“Go to university!” She replied.

“I can go in Ark!”

“You can go in Phoenix!” They glared at each other and Clarke reminded herself that she never liked being around him when he blew up. This wasn’t the worst argument they’d ever had, but it was nowhere near the best, either. She pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out one even breath. “You can’t just stay in Ark because he doesn’t want to be alone. He got himself into that mess, and it’s his responsibility to deal with the consequences. You have a life – you can go places. Don’t make this decision based on him, John.”

Clarke felt herself freeze and she was able to watch as Murphy did. His entire body went rigid and his eyes developed a new type of heat; not one that was aimed at the world, but one that was directed at her, specifically. She couldn’t stand that type of heat; it weighed her down, burning across her skin, melting her into a puddle.

“Don’t you _ever_ fucking call me that,” he spat, stepping closer as he spoke. Clarke locked her jaw – she wasn’t saying anything else and making any more mistakes. “I am staying in Ark. I am not John. Stop trying to change my mind.”

He stormed off, then, and Clarke let out a breath. She was still tense and she blinked a few times, trying to stop any tears from forming in her eyes. Her fists clenched and relaxed, and she swallowed until there was no moisture left.

-

Eventually, they got back on the lift to go to the ground again. Clarke sat with Raven, her head on her shoulder and her hands in her lap, fidgeting. Even when Raven took one of her hands, rubbing those soothing patterns across her skin, Clarke kept going with her free one. She spared a glance on Murphy, finding his hands rubbing together and his eyes pointedly staring forwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please PLEASE hit up the comments so I know what you're thinking? I really love reading them, and they make me feel so much better about what I'm writing. Thanks!


	4. Hold Out Your Hand 'Cause Friends Will Be Friends Right 'Till The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all right, okay, the last scene in this chapter is probably my favourite scene i've ever written and i love it, fuck i love it. please love it also.
> 
> chapter title from friends will be friends

Clarke met Octavia when she was fifteen. Octavia Blake was thirteen; two years younger and they were auditioning for the same musical at school. Clarke was enraptured by the younger girl’s performance; the way she moved and spoke, as if the lines were meant for her and the words came from her soul. Clarke wasn’t nearly as good, but she landed a roll, anyway.

Octavia had congratulated her, happily, as if Clarke had won the jackpot – not her, who was given the lead role. She and Octavia worked side by side, laughing and acting and pretending that they were saying the correct words every time they improvised. Clarke found herself loving the young Blake, and not wanting to let her go after the musical ended.

-

At the campsite, the next morning, Clarke woke up with the distinct smell of dew surrounding her. She loved the smell of morning when camping; the woods and grass, the clean scent that wafted through the breeze. When she went to the bathroom with her washbag, she smelt the barbeques being set up throughout the site; watching as people dressed in pyjamas and hoodies wandered to and from the toilet blocks, just like her. Around her, anyone with long hair had either tied it up or let it rustle in a nest through the breeze.

Inside the toilet block, she was highly aware of the lack of front door and the birds nest in the alcove above it. They had discovered this on their first day; the three baby birds that lived there and chirped all day every day. She ducked down under the door, out of habit, before going through her morning routine. When she was in front of the mirror, brushing her teeth, the first bird decided to make an entrance.

“Shit,” Clarke groaned, ducking as a bird flapped around the room. The women around her complained, also, finishing up quickly and making a run for it. As soon as the women left, two people entered.

“Morning Clarke,” Raven smiled, limping into the room. She dumped her bag on the back of the sink and made her way to the toilet stalls.

“Hey,” Clarke replied, nodding to O who placed her bag on the shelf and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Sleep all right?”

“Yeah,” O shrugged. “Though Murphy moves a lot in his sleep.” Clarke nodded.

“Always has.”

“If that’s why you guys weren’t next to each other last night, I don’t blame you,” O huffed. “I’m fairly sure he kicked me at one point.”

“Bad dream,” Clarke automatically replied. O raised her eyebrows at her and Clarke shrugged, ducking her head and slipping her tooth brush back into her wash bag. “He only kicks when he’s having a bad dream,” she mumbled as an explanation. O nodded and turned back to the mirror, producing a hair brush and tugging it through her brown locks.

“Why weren’t you sleeping next to each other last night?” Raven asked from the stall before the flush rang out. A moment later she emerged through the door. “You practically always do.” Clarke shrugged.

“We got into a fight yesterday.”

“What about?” Raven came to stand on her other side, leaning her crutch against the wall and opening her wash bag.

“Ark, Phoenix, his dad.”

“Ooh,” O replied sympathetically, scrunching up her nose. “Even I know not to bring up his dad, and sometimes I think he doesn’t remember my name.” Clarke exhaled a smile.

“He remembers it,” she promised. “He likes pissing you off.” O nodded, still looking in the mirror and Clarke searched for her brush in her bag, before pulling it through her nest of hair. Above them, the bird chirped, flying from one ceiling beam to another.

“Well, you’ll be all right, right?” Raven asked. “We’ve still got like two weeks of this trip left, and you two are the best drivers.”

“I though Bellamy was the best driver.” O snorted.

“He’s the most careful driver,” she explained. “You and Murphy are the fastest.” Clarke nodded, frowning as she hit a tangle in her hair.

“I don’t know, though,” she sighed. “I think I fucked up this time.”

“How bad was it?” Raven asked, pulling a comb through her sleek hair easily on the first time.

“I called him John.” Both of the girls stopped and looked at her, sympathy evident in their eyes.

“You’re so screwed,” Raven told her.

“Can I have your iPod, when you die?” O asked. Clarke rolled her eyes, nudging Octavia playfully and turning back to the mirror.

“I’ll figure something out,” she swore, more to herself than to the other girls. Then she looked to Raven. “Are you and Wells dating yet?” Raven just pursed her lips, sending Clarke an amused look, and continued brushing her hair.

“I’m not hearing a no,” O chipped in with a coy smile. Raven just huffed before searching for her toothbrush.

-

They went out again, that day, to go around the town once more. This time they went together, not separating at corners and going into specific shops. They walked along in a large group, stopping at windows and cracking jokes as they went. A few minutes in, Bellamy draped his arm across Clarke’s shoulder and she smiled to herself, purposely not moving away for as long as possible. Where their skin touched, it burned. It was a good burning though; like the heat that would rise to her face whenever he complimented her, or the way her stomach churned happily when his eyes lingered.

Octavia wove throughout the group, spending time with every member and not wanting to miss a single joke. She grinned a lot, and led them to window after window, even if she knew she couldn’t buy any of it. Clarke knew about the money situation in their family; the lack of it. She knew that O was good with her spending – she might stare at clothes and books as if she’s going to buy them, but Clarke knew as well as anyone did that she never would; that they were treats, if anything, and they were to be bought only when money wasn’t tight.

Unfortunately for her, money was practically always tight.

Murphy was a lot like Octavia, in the sense that he wandered throughout the group. Clarke had tried to stand near him at the beginning, when they poured from the van, but he’d moved away. She could see what his problem was, and she knew it would be difficult for him. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place and he didn’t like the advice that she’d given. And he certainly hadn’t liked being called John.

Octavia had called him John when she first met him, Clarke remembered as they stepped off the main road and onto a small cobbled street. She had called him John because that’s what it said on the register for the drama production (Murphy was working with props, at Clarke’s insistence that he join her). His expression had turned stormy in a millisecond, and Clarke had to rush up to him, telling him that O didn’t know. It still hurt him and she knew it, though.

“What’s wrong with being called John?” O had asked later on in a hushed whisper, her eyes curious and darting about as if Murphy was going to return at any moment.

“It’s his old life,” Clarke had sighed. “He hasn’t been called John since his mother died – he hates it. When he explained it to me, he called it a door. It was shut on his old life, or something. Murphy’s who he is now.” Clarke had accepted it easily when Murphy had asked for it – they were best friends and who was she to deny him this? But Octavia wasn’t so sure, scowling at him when he returned, but still making an active effort to call him Murphy, instead.

Now, O and Murphy were walking along together and Clarke desperately wanted to know what they were saying. But Bellamy started speaking and she smiled up at him, all the same.

“I think we should get ice cream,” he had decided with a nod.

“Sounds like a good idea,” she replied with a shrug. Bellamy smiled down at her before announcing his plan to the group, who nodded in return.

“There’s probably one down there,” Raven replied, nodding to the end of the street. It was a little more full and the shops they could see felt a bit more tourist-y – with skirting across the window sills and brightly coloured shop fronts. They walked ahead and found themselves looking at every store window for ice cream. After a few minutes of looking, they arrived outside a place called Scoops.

“Who wants to go in?” Bellamy asked, looking through the window. There wasn’t a huge queue, but there was a slight one.

“I will,” Murphy volunteered with a shrug. He stepped forward and glanced through the door.

“Me, too,” Clarke smiled. She watched Murphy roll his eyes and look away, and the others nodded.

“You’ll need another one,” Raven pointed out. “There’s six of us and you guys only have two hands each.” It was silent for a moment before a voice called out.

“Sure,” Octavia nodded. “I’ll go, too.” Murphy entered the shop first, and Clarke followed behind. “I’ll mediate the argument,” Clarke heard O whisper to the group. She pushed aside the sounds of Raven snickering as they entered, looking over the array of flavours. They’d already discussed them outside, before going in, and so it was just a matter of standing in the line. Unfortunately, the people ahead were taking their time, ordering possibly the entire shop, with the amount of money they were racking up.

Murphy was staring pointedly ahead, deciding to go down the silent-treatment route. Clarke sighed, stepping up beside him.

“Murphy,” she said quietly. “I’m really sorry – you probably know that. But I am. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have called you by your first name and I shouldn’t have told you to go to Phoenix if you don’t want to. I just really don’t want you to be mad at me, anymore.” Murphy’s jaw twitched but he didn’t look at her.

Clarke ran a hand through her hair, glancing back at O who was pretending not to be listening in. “You’re my best friend, Murph,” she told him. “You know I wouldn’t do any of this intentionally – it scares me, being without you, and I’ve always had this idea of us going together, and I just thought it would be good for you if you left for Phoenix with the rest of us.” She swallowed. “But if you want to stay with your dad, that’s fine. We’ll visit and skype and everything.”

He looked down at his feet for a moment, before casting his eyes towards her. There was this sadness in them that she hadn’t seen for a long time; bottomless pits of a murky green that drilled down into his depths.

“Clarke,” he rasped, sighing. She smiled, if only because it had been a day without his voice and she hadn’t realised just how much she’d missed it. “It’s not like I _want_ to stay in Ark. But I have to – for dad.” She nodded, not wanting to start anything more.  “And, I forgive you for calling me John – I know you slip up sometimes. The first half of our friendship was with that name; I can’t expect you to always get it right.” She smiled a little more now, and Murphy reached out, gripping her hand.  “You’re my best friend, too.”

They hugged; Murphy pulling her in for something bone-crushing, and Clarke grinned into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing for all it was worth. Behind her, she heard O trying to quietly call their friends to watch, but she didn’t care.

“I could stay with you, you know,” Clarke said lowly into his shoulder. “I could stay in Ark, and then we could go off to university together.” Murphy pushed her away, then, holding her by the shoulders and shaking his head.

“Not a chance, Griffin. You’re going.”

“But you’ll be on your own.”

“I’ll figure something out.” Clarke smiled then, because they were the same words she had said that morning to Raven and O, and Clarke knew that she and Murphy shared a single mind.

-

“Why don’t you like Queen?” Clarke asked as she drove. O sat next to her in the car, groaning every now and again to the music selection. Her feet were up on the dashboard and Murphy sat on her other side, head leaning on the window, probably asleep. They were driving back to Ark, now, having been gone for almost five weeks. She huffed, tipping her head back.

“I just don’t,” she replied irritably.

“But there’s got to be a reason,” Clarke insisted. “Their music is legendary – they have a greatest hits album, and then an album of greatest hits of their greatest hits; there is literally nothing that they can’t do.”

Octavia just shrugged. “We used to listen to them as kids,” she told her, and Clarke glanced over to find O staring resolutely ahead. “And Bell and I used to do the stomping to We Will Rock You, and sway to We Are The Champions. But we just stopped. I don’t like them, Clarke.”

The blonde frowned as she switched lanes, heading back in the direction of Polis, where they’d be staying the night. “But if you used to love them…” She trailed off as she glanced in the side mirror, checking the lane to her right before she moved over again.

“I liked them,” O corrected. “Different to love. But Mum used to film us and turn the music up; it was nice, back then.”

“When did you start not liking them?” Clarke asked. O was silent for a while and the track switched on the stereo. Love Of My Life came on; the slow guitar plucking away before Freddie Mercury’s voice swept in. _Love of my life, you’ve hurt me. You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me._ Clarke could hear Murphy murmuring along to the words, on O’s other side, and Clarke nodded her head, mouthing them. _Love of my life can’t you see, bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me – because…_

“You don’t know what it means to me,” Octavia murmured with a sigh. She looked over to Clarke with a frown. “Mum once said that my dad was a Queen groupie,” she shrugged. “I don’t know if I ever believed her, but it sort of messed me over, with their music.”

It was Clarke’s turn to talk, but she didn’t. She just kept driving, staring ahead as the song moved on; the guitar swirling around her head and the smooth tone of Mercury’s voice filling her. She glanced in the rear view mirror, noticing the car had gone quiet; her friends in the back were silent, Bellamy’s head resting on the window like Murphy’s was, and Raven and Wells leaning on each other. It should have brought a smile on Clarke’s lips but it didn’t; her mind was enveloped by the song, and she had to remind herself to focus on the road.

_You will remember when this is blown over, and everything’s all by the way. When I grow older I will be there at your side to remind you how I still love you, I still love you._

-

Clarke held the poles of the awning as Bellamy stretched the canvas over the top. She watched as his shirt rode up and a thin stretch of golden skin was uncovered across his back. Clarke just watched as he pulled down the canvas, pegging it into the ground and nodding that she could let go of the pole.

O, Raven and Wells had gone with the van to buy dinner, and Murphy was fixing the pegs in on the other side of the awning. Clarke knelt down by Bellamy, handing him the next peg.

“O said her dad was a Queen groupie?” She questioned, and Bellamy glanced over.

“That’s what Mum said,” he nodded. “But I think he was just a massive fan; following the tour around and stuff.”

“How long was he with you guys?” Bellamy moved back onto his heels, resting his arms on his knees.

“About a year and a half, I think. He gave me one of his tour t-shirts and then he was gone.” Clarke raised her eyebrows.

“You’ve got one of his t-shirts?” He shook his head.

“Not anymore – you remember when we were painting my bedroom?” Clarke thought back to about seven months beforehand, when the leak in his ceiling was fixed. The landlord said he could have the walls repainted, but only if he did it himself, and Clarke spent two days colouring the walls. She nodded in response. “Well, you got covered in paint-“

“You covered me in paint,” she corrected. Bellamy cracked a grin before continuing.

“And I gave you one of my old shirts to wear instead?” Clarke nodded in realisation. She still had the t-shirt he leant her, sitting in her drawers.

“Oh, shit,” she breathed. “I totally forgot to give that back to you – I didn’t know it was important. You should have reminded me.” His grin grew a little wider as she spoke. “I’ll give it back as soon as we get back to Ark,” Clarke promised. Bellamy shook his head, standing, and Clarke straightened, too.

“No need,” he replied, holding up a hand. “It looked better on you than it ever did on me.” And then he turned and wandered over to where Murphy was picking up the spare pegs and the conversation was officially over.

-

Inside the awning, Clarke felt like she was boiling. It was exceptionally dark, a little after midnight and even the lights by the bathroom had flicked off. But she couldn’t cope with being inside, so Clarke shimmied out of her sleeping bag and bundled it up in her arms, slowly unzipping the tent and cringing at the noise it made.

Once outside, she laid out her sleeping bag again.

Clarke stared at the sky, once she was on the ground once more. Her sleeping bag had a built in hood and she made sure her head was resting on it, when she laid down. Above her, the galaxy stretched out before her eyes; twinkling star after twinkling star, filling the night sky. Clarke only knew a few of the constellations; the big dipper, Orion – but she could only ever find his belt - the little dipper. Essentially, she could find three stars in a line and anything that looked like sauce pan.

Now she was out here, looking at the universe spread out in front of her, she didn’t want to go to sleep – Clarke couldn’t bear to let her eyes shut, in case she missed some of the natural phenomenon that was above her.

So she stayed, staring and smiling in awe; a massive connect-the-dots between balls of burning gas, lightyears away from one another. Clarke pillowed her head on a single hand, stretched up behind her and dragged her eyes across the night sky.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” A voice startled Clarke, and she tore her gaze from the stars to the figure standing above her. She hadn’t heard the zip move, but Wells was standing there all the same. He set out his sleeping bag on her right, crawling inside and staring at the same sky that Clarke was already mesmerised by.

“They’re so far away,” she murmured. “Yet we can see them so clearly.” Wells nodded, she could see that out of the corner of her eye, but he said nothing else. The two of them lied there, letting the heat of the night seep into their sleeping bags. It wasn’t long until the zip sounded and a body climbed out of the awning.

“What are you guys doing out here?” Raven asked.

“Star gazing,” Wells replied quietly. Clarke didn’t have to look at Raven to know that she was looking up now, too, but then she moved, ducking back inside the awning and reappearing a moment later with the blanket she slept under. Raven hobbled to the other side of Wells, lying down and tucking herself into him. Clarke glanced over to find Wells’ arm coming up around her, his smile stretched out just like the diamonds above them.

“My mama used to tell me stories about the stars,” Raven whispered eventually. “She told me that they were watching us; guardians in the night, keeping us safe from harm. Even in my neighbourhood I always felt safest at night.” Clarke smiled gently, not taking her eyes from a single star, brightly shining in the velvet of the sky.

“My dad used to tell me that they were the great kings; every one of them watching over us,” Clarke replied.

“That’s the plot to _The Lion King_ ,” Wells told her. Clarke nodded.

“I know. But he told me it, anyway.” She heard them exhale their smiles and the sound of a car door. Moments later a figure appeared to their right, outside the awning. She smiled over at Murphy, dragging his sleeping bag behind him like a lost child. He stood there, watching the three on the ground for a moment, before walking around their feet and coming to a stop by Clarke’s side. There he jumped into his sleeping bag before sitting on the floor. Clarke found him scooting closer before lying down, and she looked over to him to find him already smiling back; that small, half smile that told her enough but would confuse anyone else.

“My parents used to tell me about the stars,” he said eventually, after a few silent minutes had passed. All four of them were looking up, now, staring at the vastness of the universe. “The balls of gas, burning; the way the sun was a star – just closer than the rest. They once told me that this – night time, where we can see each of those burning stars  - was the natural state of the universe; that day only came because there was a star close enough to shed light on our planet. But this – this is what it looked like, even at the beginning.” Clarke found her eyes dragging down to him, where he stared pointedly forward, pointedly upward. She noticed the tear, tracking a line down his face, and her smile was warm.

Clarke reached her hand out to his, holding it carefully in the grass between their sleeping bags, even if there wasn’t that much space at all.

“My dad just told me they were lightyears away,” Wells explained, last. “He said they were so far away that they were none of our concern. Not our domain, not our problem.” Clarke looked over to where his jaw was tight; clenched at the thought; she supposed his father was always like that.

“Mum said they were created by God,” a small voice said into the silence. It was new, and Clarke glanced over to the door of the awning, left unzipped, where O stood. Behind her, Bellamy rested a hand on her shoulder. The siblings stepped through the gap, pulling their sleeping bags with them and moving down to the end of the line, next to Murphy. O sat down first, next to him, and Bellamy after. “’In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,’” she recited.

“’And God said “Let there be light”. And there was light,’” Bellamy continued, his voice low and husky in the darkness. “’God saw that the light was good and he separated the light from the darkness.’”

“’God called the light “day”, and the darkness he called “night”. And there was evening, and there was morning – the first day.’” Silence enveloped them once again after the Blakes stopped. Clarke had never believed in God, nor had she been religious, but she saw the stories as beautiful; the all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving being that dedicated his presence to the world and their salvation.

“She used to tell us that at night,” Bellamy added after a while. “Used to tell us that God created the universe, and the sun; the stars and the night, and if he was out there somewhere, no true harm could come to us.” She heard him scoff and the sound of Octavia’s hand, lightly hitting him.

“The stars are his angels, and they watch over everyone – no matter the age or race or anything. They were there, to swoop down and protect everyone from anything God didn’t want to happen,” O sighed.

“I like that,” Clarke replied eventually. “I like the idea of God having the eternal plan for us.”

“I don’t.” The way Raven spoke, with half of her face pressed against Wells, made her voice quiet and muffled. “I don’t like to think that he planned for me to have a bum leg, or for Finn or Mama, or anything. I think we have the free will to change our destiny.”

“Me too,” Murphy joined in. “I don’t want God to have thought up my life – I don’t want him to have sat down with his book and gotten to my name and gone, _criminal father, drug-addict and suicidal mother, dyslexic_. That feels too cruel for a divine being to do.” Clarke shifted, their hands still intertwined but her head, now resting on his shoulder.

“Either way,” Wells added. “I think it’s still pretty great that he’d have the angels to watch out for us.” The group murmured their affirmation, and they went back to being silent. The moon hung just behind their heads, cut off by the awning, but Clarke could still see it’s glow. It was almost full; just less than a perfect ivory circle, hanging in the sky. Her eyes traced over the craters of silver and she wondered about being there; the anti-gravity, the moon dust, the way the Earth would look, so distance and spinning slowly; the clouds at the surface and the water, endless blue that would drift to the shores of green.

“I feel so small,” Clarke whispered at last, sleep nibbling at the edges of her, but not overcoming. With the pure size of the universe before her, she had never felt tinier, but with the way that her best friend – the only person she truly needed – squeezed her hand, Clarke had also never felt more complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i love that scene
> 
> please remember to click the kudos button and comment down below what you liked and didn't like and what you want to see in the possibly final chapter that's next (i think theres only going to be one more chapter. theres not too much to resolve) thanks


	5. Crazy Little Thing Called Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, so thank you all for being awesome and reading this much. I had fun writing this and I happen to love writing road trips and Queen, so this was a good thing for me.
> 
> Chapter title from the song by the same name.

Clarke and Bellamy Blake met two months and twelve days after Clarke met Octavia, when she was fifteen. Clarke had gone to O’s house for rehearsal, finding herself in a rundown house on the outskirts of town; it’s lawn in disarray with unkempt bushes and dead flowers. There were pots in the windows but it was just soil and a beer can left inside.

She forced herself to remain neutral, however, following her friend into the house. Inside, Bellamy was on the sofa, and looked up when she came in. He was beautiful, Clarke noticed immediately. Caramel-coloured skin, a smattering of freckles and dark curly hair. Bellamy wasn’t what Clarke had thought she’d find attractive (she was sure her perfect man would have been with blonde hair and blue eyes, like her) – but he was, in that moment, everything she could have ever wanted for herself.

He was scowling, however, and looked Clarke up and down. “Who’s this?” He had asked.

“Clarke,” O cheerily responded, not fazed in the slightest by Bellamy’s demeanour. “We’re rehearsing for the play.” Then she’d looked to Clarke. “This is my older brother, Bellamy. Bell, we’re going to work in my room.” He’d just nodded and turned away.

“Nice to meet you,” Clarke had said quietly, turning to follow her friend. She had left the room before she could hear him say it in return.

-

“What are you going to miss the most about Ark?” Clarke asked O, both of their feet up on the dashboard, with Bellamy one side of her and the younger Blake on the other. The radio played an over-used pop song on a low volume and Clarke tapped her hand on her thigh in tune to it.

“I don’t know,” O mused, glancing over. “What about you?”

“The hospital,” Clarke replied with only a moment of thought. Next to her, Bellamy snorted.

“There are hospitals all over the world, Princess.” Clarke rolled her eyes, nudging him with her elbow.

“No, idiot, I’m going to miss that one.” She paused for a moment before deciding to continue. “In the children’s ward, there was this little girl – Lily. She has been in there for as long as I remember; every now and again she’ll leave for a few months, only to return again. It’s awful how badly ill she is – but she was always so happy. Whenever I was around, I would go in there and sit with her, and she’d tell me about every other kid on the ward because she knew them all so well. She learnt everyone’s names, ages and favourite colours within minutes of them being admitted.” Clarke smiled as she spoke, looking straight forward and the almost empty motorway that stretched out ahead of her. It was ten at night, she guessed, and they were only a hundred or so miles from Ark. Bellamy was just looking out for a place to pull over for the night.

“She sounds great,” O said quietly. Clarke nodded, her eyes fixing on the orange and red tail lights of the closest car; still a good fifty metres ahead.

“She is. But I’m going to miss her most, I think.” They were all quiet for a moment, and Clarke could hear the sounds of Raven’s headphones and Wells’ light snoring. She glanced back quickly, finding him propped on her shoulder. Murphy was in the back of the van, she knew, probably already asleep. When she looked back to the front, a small smile on her face over the way Raven’s fingers drew circles across the skin of Wells’ hand, O spoke.

“I think I’m going to miss our house,” she decided. “You can make friends anywhere in the world – but there’s only one childhood home.” Clarke peeked over at her, finding her eyes trained on her hands in her lap. “Sure, the wallpaper’s practically peeling off, and one of the windows is just covered with cardboard – and there’s almost definitely mould in the bathroom – but it’s our house, you know? It’s the one I grew up in. And I know that the carpets pull up in my bedroom – but the floorboards also move and I have all sorts of stuff stashed under there. And sure the attic is just home to hundreds of spiders, but it’s the perfect place to hide things that I don’t want anyone else touching. And – you know the cutlery draw doesn’t open?” O sat up, smiling, now. “Bell glued it shut when he was like fourteen!” Clarke’s eyebrows rose and she glanced over to the driver.

“Really?” He nodded, and in the dim glow of the headlight she saw him smile.

“Mum was burning through our money,” he shrugged. “So I stuck a couple grand in there – rainy day money and all that – and glued it shut. I’ve had the solvent for ages, so we can open the draw and take it all out before we leave.” Clarke laughed, then, suddenly amazed by the man sitting next to him. He only looked over to her for a moment, but she swore she saw his smile grow wider.

“What are you going to miss the most?” Clarke asked after a beat. He shrugged, keeping his eyes steady on the road once more.

“I don’t know, the bar?”

“Seriously?” O asked incredulously. “The bar?” Bellamy sighed, rolling his head and Clarke heard something click.

“I don’t know – I’m going to miss all of it. The bar and the stupid writing on the stalls; the house; Mum sitting in her grave with no visitors anymore – I’m just going to miss all of it.” The three of them were quiet for a moment and the radio switched the song off, and the news soundtrack turned on. “You know what I’m surprised by, though?” He added this lowly, as if trying to hide it from the others in the care.

“What?” Clarke whispered.

“I’m surprised that you’re going to miss the hospital, when your best friend is staying in Ark, too.” Clarke paused, there, and she thought back to him, probably already asleep, because he could never stay awake for very long – even at their sleepovers.

“You’re probably right,” she murmured. She would miss Murphy a whole lot more than the hospital.

-

Bellamy and Clarke slept outside that night. The others curled up inside the campervan as the two laid out their sleeping bags. Clarke crawled into hers, shoving the pillow behind her but not lying down just yet. Instead, she sat on the pillow and leant back against the van. Bellamy joined her a moment later.

For a while, they sat in silence; inside the van everyone else was asleep, but outside the world was still turning, still alive. She could hear voices from further along the car park; a little girl complaining about being tired and a guy calling out that something was a great idea. The lights turned on and off depending on movement, and they flickered awake as a dog ran past. There were very few cars, but the ones that were there either were dark, with people asleep inside, or lit up, silhouettes of people talking through the windows.

Clarke glanced at Bellamy through the corner of her eyes. Strands of blonde hair intercepted her vision but she didn’t mind; she had his entirety etched in her long term memory. Every freckle was seared into the back of her eyelids. He was looking straight forward, as she had been, staring at the world in front of them; so full of life. Even in the darkness, the world was still going on by.

A light turned on from movement, lighting up the side of Bellamy’s face. He was beautiful in that moment – not like he hadn’t been before – but with his eyes glowing and his skin golden; he was the epitome of wonder.

Clarke was excited that he was coming to Phoenix, too. It would mean that she still had a chance with him; still had time to help him fall in love with her the way that she had with him. (Or, almost, at least.)

Her eyes snapped away when he looked over.

“Are you looking forward to moving?” He asked quietly. Clarke nodded.

“It’s a fresh start,” she replied. “Everyone likes a fresh start.”

“I do and I don’t.” She raised her eyebrows. “I like getting to start over – the chance to remedy mistakes and begin again. But – but I also don’t want to get rid of anything from my old life in the process.” Now, when she looked over, she found Bellamy still looking at her; his eyes warm and his smile soft.

“What do you mean?” She whispered.

“I mean that if I start over, in Phoenix, then it means I lose all the progress I made in Ark.”

“What progress?” He glanced away, now.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. Bellamy didn’t say anything else so Clarke shuffled closer.

“What progress?” She repeated. Bellamy sighed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips as well.

“With everything, I guess. With O and being her guardian, with my friends, with you.”

“Progress with me?” He nodded, silently, and Clarke nudged him to elaborate.

“I don’t know, Clarke, I don’t think my thoughts have straightened themselves out, yet.” Clarke was quiet, then, her head resting on Bellamy’s shoulder for a moment.

“Tell me when they do?” She whispered. In response, she only felt the gentle incline of Bellamy’s head, brushing against her.

-

Murphy huffed in the driver’s seat as his phone started ringing.

“Would you?” He asked, nudging Clarke. She paused for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, course,” she agreed. Clarke only paused for a moment, not even sparing a glance for Bellamy, on the other side of her, watching amusedly, before turning to her best friend. He was on the motorway, trying to dodge traffic, at approximately seventy miles per hour, so Murphy’s only help was lifting his hips up from the seat as Clarke stuck her hand in his front pocket, and pulled out the phone. She clicked the answer button, holding it to her ear.

“The following call is an inmate from Ark Memorial Prison trying to contact you, press one to accept.” She glanced over to her friend.

“I think it’s your dad,” she told him. Murphy sighed.

“Accept it.” She clicked the one, and held the phone back up again.

“John?” The voice came, sounding relieved and annoyed all at once – but, then again, prison will do that to a person.

“Clarke,” she corrected.

“Oh, hello, Clarke,” Alex Murphy replied. “I thought John would be picking up – aren’t you supposed to be home by now?”

“About an hour left,” she replied. “What’s up?”

“Oh, well I was just phoning to discuss John’s university plans – our last call ended with him saying that he’s going to accept Ark’s offer if it comes in tomorrow, and he hasn’t picked up when I tried to phone again.” Clarke held the phone from her ear, glancing at Murphy.

“He wants to talk to you about university,” she told him.

“No surprise there,” Murphy said through gritted teeth. He nodded to a sign further up the road. “There’s a rest stop a mile away – can he stay on the phone until I can pull over?”

A few minutes later, Murphy parked the car and Clarke said goodbye to her friend’s dad.

“Bye, Clarke – look after John, all right?” She handed the phone over and Murphy pressed it against his ear, his expression becoming more agitated as his father spoke. Clarke unbuckled her seat belt, nudging Bellamy.

“Hey, toilet break?” Bellamy paused only for a second before nodding.

“You guys,” he said, turning back to the others in the back seat. “Toilet break.”

“I’m fine,” Raven replied, waving him off absently.

“Group toilet break,” Bellamy repeated, his voice tense. “Let’s go.” Raven and him held eye contact for just a moment before Wells tugged on her arm and the doors opened. Clarke followed Bellamy out his door, sparing a look for Murphy, his jaw locked and his eyes flaming, as he replied to Alex.

The five of them walked off in the direction of the rest stop, and Clarke and Octavia went towards the girls’ toilets, Clarke tying her hair up as she went.

“Is Murphy all right?” O asked. Clarke shrugged in response.

“Possibly. Possibly not. Who can really tell anymore?” O raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on it, pushing her way into a stall. Clarke met her by the basins, running cold water over her hands and breathing out the relief. Her hands were still wet when she joined the others out by the food court, and she grinned as she dried them on Bellamy’s shirt.

“Hey,” he protested, jumping back. Clarke grinned. “Weren’t there hand driers?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t the Dyson ones, so they weren’t worth using.” O laughed.

“They were those really crappy ones that just blow warm air and make you feel like an old person’s just breathed on you,” she agreed.

“The Dyson ones are way better,” Raven nodded. “Like, ten seconds and your hands are completely dry, front and back, no wiping or anything. Fucking genius.” Bellamy raised his eyebrows with a sigh.

“Is this the type of conversation I can expect for the next four years of my life?” He asked dryly. Wells shrugged.

“You’ve dealt with it for three – you can do it again.” Bellamy rubbed a hand across his forehead, glancing over at the shop fronts.

“If I’m lucky,” he murmured. Clarke looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows, trying to spot the van but failing.

“I hope Murphy’s okay,” she sighed.

“He’ll be fine,” Raven shrugged. “Tough kid and all that. Should we get him a drink?”

“Is that supposed to be you asking if we should all get drinks, but buy him one as well?” Wells asked with a pointed look. Raven shrugged.

“I mean, it _could_ be.”

They stood in line, collected six overly-priced drinks; two scalding hot coffees with fancy names for Raven and Wells; an iced coffee that _looked_ fancy for Octavia; and three iced fruit drinks for Bellamy, Clarke and Murphy (she even paid out extra for the whipped cream on top which she knew he’d love).

When they returned to the van, Murphy was still in the front seat, his head tipped back against the head rest and his eyes firmly shut. Clarke climbed in first, while everyone else stayed outside – not even bothering with a pretence; just knowing that the conversation would go quicker if it were just the two of them. She shut the door behind her before passing over his drink. Murphy let out an exhale of a smile when he saw it, and nodded in thanks.

“How’d it go?” She asked. Murphy screwed up his nose.

“Dad was all pissy at the beginning of summer about me going, and now he’s pissy because I’m not. I can’t win with him, Clarke.” His voice was purely defeated; there was nothing about him that had hope in succeeding anymore, and Clarke’s heart lurched. She shuffled closer, reaching out and taking his hand like she had so many times in her life.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have to,” she suggested softly. “Maybe the only person you need to win with is yourself.” Murphy was silent and his mouth closed around the straw in his drink, taking a sip before nodding. He didn’t say anything, though, just placed his drink next to his phone in the cup holders and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Clarke took that as a sign that the conversation was over, and shifted around in her seat to face the front.

When he turned on the engine, twisting the key, the others filed into the van and Clarke leaned forward, turning on the stereo. Queen immediately filtered through and O groaned in the back seat, making the others chuckle.

_Here we are, born to be kings. We’re the princes of the universe._

-

Murphy parked the car outside the Raven’s place first. She climbed out of the car, saying she’d see them all tomorrow and pulled her suitcase from the back. Then she was gone.

-

At Wells’ place, he hugged O, who was sitting next to him in the back, and said goodbye. He made a joke when he was finding his bag, but that was it, and Clarke watched him go into his house and his father greeting him on the doorstep.

-

At the Blakes’, O leaned over the back of the front seat, wrapping her arms around Murphy and Clarke’s necks in a goodbye. Bellamy grinned at the blonde, next to him, and gave her a kiss on the cheek before she could move. Then he was gone and O was running up the stairs to their apartment and Bellamy following behind. Clarke watched them go and caught him looking back, a soft smile on his face.

-

“One left,” Murphy sighed, leaning forward and turning down the volume of the stereo.

“One left,” Clarke repeated.

-

At the Griffin household, they climbed out of the van, getting their things and locking it behind them. The house was bigger than Clarke remembered, and she wandered through the foyer, Murphy on her heels, wondering if anyone was in.

“Clarke!” Jake Griffin called happily, from the top of the staircase. Clarke grinned as her father jogged down the steps. “Murphy – it’s good to have you both home.” He hugged the two of them at the same time and Clarke grinned.

“Is Mum in?” Jake sighed.

“Long shift at the hospital,” he replied, and Clarke’s smile slowly faded. “She promised she’d be back for dinner, though?” It was a suggestion and Clarke knew that Abby Griffin wasn’t going to go for it.

-

That night, Murphy knocked on her bedroom door and opened it without her answering. They sat out on her balcony, blanket wrapped around their shoulders and their sides pressed against one another.

“Has Bellamy asked you out, yet?” Murphy whispered. Clarke paused, surprised, but made her voice even in response.

“No, was he supposed to?” She felt her friend shrug, next to her.

“He said he would, is all.” Clarke thought back to her conversation with him, the previous night; he said he would figure out his feelings before he did anything, and she had briefly wondered at the time if they were romantic, but shoved the thought away. Now, though, she wondered a little more.

-

Clarke jumped in the van, and for the first time in six weeks, realised it smelt a little stale and a lot like greasy food. Murphy laughed when she said as much.

“We’ve been living in this thing for like a month,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders and clicking his belt into place. “It was bound to.” Even so, Clarke rolled down the windows before she started to drive.

They were heading off to their college, to find out what grades they got, and if they were getting into university. Clarke had no real doubts in her mind that she had made it into Phoenix – her Art coursework had received an A, and she knew the biology and English material like the back of her hand. Likewise for Raven, Wells, Bellamy – they were all pretty damn intelligent and knew what they were doing.

She was only worried for Murphy, and not because he was dyslexic and had to work three times as hard as everyone else just to break even on his grades (though, she was worried about that, too) but because when he got his grades he would have to look at her and say he was staying in Ark, even if he didn’t want to.

Clarke didn’t really want to face that.

Even so, she drove to college, and parked haphazardly, too focused on getting her grades to notice that she was too close to the car on her side, and had to climb out of Murphy’s side because she didn’t want to try parking again.

They waited out the front, watching people walk back and forth from the doors, until Bellamy wandered up.

“Morning,” he said, trying to force a smile onto his face.

“Morning,” Clarke nodded. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” He nodded, mockingly.

“Yeah, it’s been so long. What have you been up to, recently?” She shrugged.

“Oh, the usual – sleeping, eating, road trip.” Bellamy grinned and Murphy groaned.

“God, you two are nauseating,” he complained. “Just make out, already.” Clarke elbowed him in the stomach, and Bellamy looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as colour flooded to his cheeks. Raven strolled up next.

“Hey,” she greeted. “Nervous?”

“Like hell,” Murphy replied, rubbing his hands together. And then Wells.

“Wow, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you guys,” he joked. Bellamy rolled his eyes.

“I already made that joke.” Wells swore.

“I knew I should have gotten here earlier,” he complained, as the group turned to walk inside.

“Even _I_ made it here before you,” Raven replied. “And I can’t go more than a hundred metres before having to stop.” Wells sighed.

“I know – my dad was doing the Jaha family speech.”

“There’s a Jaha family speech?” Bellamy asked with a raised eyebrow. Murphy snorted.

“Yeah, it’s long and boring – hey, maybe Jaha took notes from you, Bell.” Murphy groaned when Bellamy’s elbow connected with his side.

When they reached the queue, it went quickly; they separated out by the first letter of their last name and Clarke stayed with Bellamy while the other three went to the next line along. Bellamy’s hands landed on her shoulders and she couldn’t help but smile at the way they felt there.

“We’ve got this,” he said lowly.

“We have,” she agreed.

-

They opened their grades together. Clarke watched her friends before looking at the words on her letter; watching Raven’s face light up and Wells nod in support of himself; how his arms automatically wrapped around the Latina girl and her lips pressed against his jaw. It felt like slow motion to Clarke; watching as they tangled their limbs together, and looked at each other’s grades. Wells was going to be a lawyer and Raven was going to build rockets – that was their dream and suddenly Clarke watched as it gained the potential to become a reality.

Next to them, Bellamy tore open his envelope and stared at the sheet, reading every word twice. He knew the material, Clarke could swear, she quizzed him on it so many times, and Bellamy was the type of person who wrote essays for fun but would never admit it. She wasn’t surprised when his smile grew wide and he ran a hand through his hair. He muttered something to himself, but Clarke didn’t catch it, just watched his lips move and stretch back out to form a grin once more.

When Murphy opened his, he took the longest to read the page in front of him. She knew his eyes were going to jump straight to the grades, but he still took his time, forming the letters in his mind, and explaining to himself what it would mean. His smile, though, was full of relief. It was different to the small, half smiles that he would show, and it was swimming with happiness and decision and _Murphy being okay_. Clarke felt herself smile, then, as her best friend and brother connected the dots of his life together, with just a piece of paper in front of him. She read the grades over his shoulder; the two B’s and an A – what he hadn’t expected and far surpassing the marks he’d been offered for acceptance to Phoenix, even further past those for Ark.

Only then, when his eyes jumped to her; the first person he wanted to share the moment with, did she look down at her letter. It sat on top of the ripped brown envelope, folded like it had just come out.  Clarke gently lifted the paper up, flattening it out with a single hand, and her eyes skimming the words until she found her grades. She wasn’t surprised at the A’s, but it was enough and it was fantastic, and she would be going to Phoenix with her friends and starting her life.

The world felt open, all of a sudden, like there had been chains on her ankles and a locked gate in front of her eyes. But the lock was now broken and Clarke saw a future she could have.

Murphy’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, and they hugged as giddy laughs flew from their lips.

-

The removal van was parked outside Bellamy’s apartment complex. The promise to his friends was that if they helped move the stuff into the van, they could take any of the left over space with their stuff (Raven was very excited about the concept).

Clarke shoved the box onto the van, and Wells picked it up, taking it to the far end and dumping it onto the pile. Then she turned and went back to the bottom of the stairs, where Bellamy was waiting with the next box. They repeated the process, the human chain of boxes and furniture being passed along between one another.

When she returned, however, she frowned.

“Next thing is apparently heavier,” Bellamy shrugged in explanation. Clarke nodded, resolving to catch her breath next to him. They stood together in silence, staring at the murky green walls of the stairwell.

“Hey, Clarke?” Bellamy broke the silence. Clarke glanced up, humming in response. She supposed that his lips meeting hers was the reply, but she couldn’t be sure. Her head was swimming and her arms automatically curled around his neck. There wasn’t a room in her mind for thinking because his skin was on hers, and his lips were moving against hers, and suddenly things felt very, very right.

Bellamy’s lips were softer than she thought they’d be, but he was even more skilled that she expected. He held her gently, as if she were fragile and could break at any moment; a delicate flower that he didn’t want to crush under his palms. She pushed back into him, though, and his grip turned heavy, and his fingertips dug into the skin of her hips, holding her down in place as his tongue roamed her mouth.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Raven said, breaking the moment with a strained voice. “But this is fucking heavy.” Bellamy pulled back first, his eyes jumping from Clarke to Raven, a couple steps up. He moved away from the blonde, jumping up the steps to take the box from the other girl. Raven shook her head at the two of them, before disappearing up the stairs again.

When Bellamy returned, he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before letting go of the box into her arms.

“Shit,” she complained and he grinned, watching as she lugged his textbooks down to the van.

-

Clarke’s dorm was mixed gendered. Raven was down the hall, and Bellamy lived a block away. Wells was upstairs and Clarke’s room was opposite these two boys who’d known each other since birth and gave her weed brownies on their first day.

“It’s how friendship is made,” the taller of the two had shrugged. Clarke’s eyes dragged to the empty room at the end of the hall, still, when she left to shower or do the laundry. She spoke to Murphy every day, and informed him that they had left the room but would be filling it by the end of the month. Clarke didn’t want someone taking his room, but she let that go unsaid; because he was doing what was right, and staying with his foster family so he could be there when his father got out of prison.

She was in her room, when her door pushed open. Clarke glanced up from her laptop to where Monty, one of the boys who lived opposite, was standing.

“They filled the room,” he said quietly with a frown. “I had to move my moonshine operation.”

“Where is it now?” She questioned.

“Final shower stall,” he replied with a shrug. “Not as good as a whole room.”

“Who’s got the room, anyway?” Monty moved further into her room after glancing out the door.

“I don’t know, some kid. Jasper might know.”

“Well, where’s Jasper?”

“Printing off an ‘out of order’ sign for the shower stall,” Monty told her like it was obvious. Clarke nodded; she found it easier to just go along with the two boys. “You want to meet the new kid?” She paused before shrugging, sighing that she would have to tell Murphy about them tonight; she would say that he was the greatest possible human being, no one could be better – it would be an awful attempt at making him jealous, but she knew Murphy would at least appreciate the sentiment.

Clarke banged on Raven’s door as she wandered past, and by the time she’d made it to the final room, door flung wide open, the Latina girl’s head was poked out the door.

“What?”

“Have you met the new kid yet?” She asked, nodding towards the room in front of her. Raven shook her head, hobbling into the hallway.  Clarke moved into the room; there were only two boxes, and a single suitcase, sitting on the bed, but they seemed fairly full and Clarke wondered what was in them. By the door sat a backpack, and a pair of shoes in the middle of the room.

“Hey,” Monty said from behind her, and Clarke turned, standing almost in the middle of the stranger’s room, as a body appeared in the doorway. The new kid nodded to Monty, and Clarke’s lips pulled out into a smile as he locked his eyes onto her.

“I win,” Murphy shrugged, dumping the box in his arms on the floor and letting Clarke pull him into a bone crushing hug.

-

Later that night, they drank and laughed and sang along to Queen, and Clarke realised that it was probably all she was ever going to need in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING.  
> PLEASE COMMENT WHAT YOU THOUGHT AND I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND HIT THE KUDOS BUTTON THANKS. IF YOU READ ALL OF THIS FIC I LOVE YOU AND YOU'RE GREAT.

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember the dynamic duo - kudos and comments. I'd love to hear what you think?


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